


Words On A Page

by castielslovesong



Series: A Pirates Life For Us [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark Dean Winchester, Dean Needs A Hug, Emotional Hurt, Flashbacks, Hurt Dean Winchester, Impala, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Pirates, Scars, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, im not really sure about this, more of a filler, on the
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:24:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielslovesong/pseuds/castielslovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Castiel sleeps, Dean fights his insecurities. </p><p>The trip will take at least 14 days. He doesn't know how to deal with this. He was brought up military style, look out for Sammy and that's it. Now, he has to fight the rift of trust between him and Castiel and trying to fight the ongoing world problems.</p><p>Chuckling to himself he can't help a personal question bubbling up through the 1000 things weighing on his shoulders:</p><p>Should he get his hair cut?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words On A Page

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for this being more of a filler, I don't even know where I'm going with this. I mean, the end is gunna be happy (I think) but I want more between Dean and Cas first so yeah. Sorry
> 
> There will be smut coming eventually though (: I don't even know if you're looking for that but I am literally intending to spend a chapter on it *shrugs*
> 
> Comments, as always, are appreciated *cough* special thanks to threeacttragedy *cough* for getting my ass in gear. 
> 
> I'm not even going to give false hope on updates. I'm back to school Monday, it's exam season. If I get one up in the next two weeks, kudos for me guys. 
> 
> Thanks for reading anyhow. Mistakes will be fixed as/when (you know the drill by now people)

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair. It needed cutting, he frowned, and really it shouldn’t even factor in as something that reaches 100 in his list of priorities. Sighing, he tried to remember when anything as trivial as how long his hair was made it on his list. They’re on the hunt for Balthazar this time, making their way across the Atlantic into the British Isles because the sad bastard likes the finer things in life. He absently twirls a strand of dark brown hair between his fingertips.

_We could get it braded like Sammy’s._

He snorted at the thought. Sam’s hair was ridiculously long now; Jess had even commented. It is nice, that Sam has Jess. Lord knows the poor kid could use some stability in his life. Jess is a sweet girl, feisty and bright, and if Dean was ever asked to picture his little brother happy, it would be with her.

Which brings him full circle to this mess with Cas. Sat at his desk in the Impala, the candles flickered in the darkness, illuminating Cas’ sleeping bundle of limbs across from him. He was twirling his pen knife in his hand (a nervous habit) staring down with bleary eyes at the page in Dad’s journal. It was like a life line – humourlessly – the only thing John cared more about than the Impala. Admittedly, however, it has saved Dean’s ass more times than he’d care to admit.

Except for now... Now, as he wipes the imaginary haze from his eyes with his free hand, still twisting the knife in the other, it brings him nothing but uncertainty. It’s a feeling that settles low in his gut and grows, cancerous and traitorous in his mind. He feels subconscious of what Cas’ seen; of how close he has let the freaking God squad into his life. Looking down at the page he has open, he watches half heartedly as the shadows flick over the words.

He wants to be sick or to stab something.

There’s a funny thing he’s learnt in his life, short though it has been, and it is the irrevocable fact that the only thing evil in the world is people. People lie. They cheat and scam and kill (he’s not saying he’s any different) and the worst kind can do it all while acting as a friend. Everything in his chest wants to abort. He knows the feeling that’s there.

Whatever this between he and Cas is, it goes deep in him. It coddles his heart and lulls him into the coldest kind of security. Gently, he places the blade down. He rubs his hands down his trousers, drying them from the sweat that’s accumulated there. Through the thin fabric he can feel the scars. Scrunching his eyes up, he digs the blunt nails into the skin.

_“You went directly to hell. Did not pass go, did not collect two hundred dollars. Daddy dearest sends his regards.”_

_“He wouldn’t.” Dean spat, along with a glob of blood onto the concrete floor. It was stained in shades of red, all different, some old, some new. There were claws marks down there too, and tallys on the walls. The tallys painted the walls, dirty scratch marks of either time spent or lives lost._

_“Oh, but little grasshopper he would. He told me exactly where to find little Sammy-“_

_“Don’t you say his name, you son of a bitch! I’m here. You don’t even...” He broke off choking on a sob and moan of pain._

_He laughed. The sick, vile, man laughed in that same raspy tone that will follow Dean to his grave and snigger at him from the shadows when he’s on the rack for real._

_“I'm sorry. This is a very serious, very emotional situation for you. I shouldn't laugh, it's just that—I mean, are you serious?”_

_Dean remained silent. Choosing instead to stare down at the whirls of cuts on his chest, crimson coating his now pale skin, his mind screaming in some desperate attempt to contradict what Alastair had said. Dad wouldn’t... would he?_

_“Poor baby Dean. Runs from the burning building, little he-who-shall-not-be-named in his 4 year old arms, while Dad tries in vain to save Mom. Poor, poor Dean who goes on to spend the next 15 years of his life seeking Daddy’s approval. You’re a lost, scared little boy in there. I can see it. I can free you Dean... You just need to learn who to trust.”_

The remnants of the flashback filter out like smoke. Its vapour clings to the stinging in his eyes and the uneven inhale and exhale of his chest though. He tries to focus on that, on his breathing. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forces his lungs to cooperate. As indecisive as he is about the man at the moment, he doesn’t want to wake Cas. That treacherous beat of his heart skips again when he opens his eyes to look at his sleeping companion.

Cas hadn’t woken, nor had he had another nightmare. The water gushed at the side of the Impala, swaying the room more violently. Shadows flickered over the page that once again drew his attention. The room veered left, Dean moving his hand minutely to catch the bottle of rum as it slid from one side of his desk to the other; catching it, twisting the cap with one hand and downing the contents as the room returned to its normal orientation.

Burning at the back of his throat was a welcomed change from the stale caught there before. The liquid was harsh, increasing in intensity as he continued to swallow it unrelenting. He relished the smoulder, letting it fill the gap of Alastair’s words.

He’s weak, he knows it. He’s always needed Sam more than he ever needed him and who the Hell was he trying to kid!? On the weekdays he’s a pirate, justifying his actions with a good cause. At the weekends, he's chasing down the runaways of the same organisation he should - or should not - be fighting. But, at the end, he’s just another man damned to dangle by a rope some day.

The page stops looking like an ensemble of random letters and goes back to words and sentences. He can’t help but brush the pads of his calloused fingers across the space at the bottom.

_It’s just another page._

**_You asking me or tellin’ me man?_ **

This is the page that has the most detailed description about ‘Heaven’s’ side of things (it’s only a 2 page spread, Dad dealt better will ‘Hell’). There are names listed though in his Dad’s surprisingly neat scrawl:

_Michael – the leader_

_Raphael –muscle_

_~~Gabriel – I don’t even know but he can’t be good news~~ _

_Zachariah –business man_

_Soldiers – Uriel, Inias, ~~Anna~~ , Hester, Ion, ~~Balthazar~~_ and the list continues after the next name but it’s there his finger stops.

Due to ‘Castiel’, scribbled in dried black ink on the faded, dog-eared page. Not that that is significant. Wearily raising his eyes, Dean’s face falls unconsciously at the sight of Cas’ peaceful expression facing him. The words written in caps, bleeding through to the next page are imprinted in his brain.

**_SCREWED ME OVER WITH MARY. NONE CAN BE TRUSTED._ **

**Author's Note:**

> **ON HAITUS TILL AFTER MY EXAMS 10/06 SORRY :(**


End file.
